


I Can't Go On Without You

by space_kid



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Psychopaths In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 13:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14166330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_kid/pseuds/space_kid
Summary: Will knows and lets it happen out of curiosity.





	I Can't Go On Without You

**Author's Note:**

> it was inevitable lbr  
> title comes from a kaleo song

The table was set and the bloody curtains parted, revealing the both of them in their respective roles.

Hannibal on one side of the table, back straight and poised in his usual manner. The suit he was wearing crossed him like stitched chains, keeping his darkness within himself and as contained as he wanted it to be. Delicate hands lightly on the edge of the mahogany table, ever so lightly dancing their tips, teasing. His face was soft and charmed, a faint smile playing at his lips as a show of dominance or as a show of genuine pleasure or perhaps a showing of both. There was no denying he was in his element, his lines were memorized and his placement was impeccable. His eyes stared straight ahead, watching Will Graham.

Will on the other side of the table, back straight in a rigid form like the spine of a book. His suit was darker and tighter fitting, smaller frame on displayed in the material that looked specifically made for him, like dark matter was spun into thread. His hands rested in his lap, not daring to reach across or show his cards, not yet at least. His face was stony and cold, yet just beneath the surface was a running river of lava just itching to be released. His eyes are bright and dangerous like fire and he is as comfortable and sure of himself as he has ever been; he looked right back at Hannibal like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he was unwilling to admit that it _was_.

Dinner was resting between the both of them; steaming piles of food and delicacies that Hannibal had prepared for the both of them. Roasted meat with seasonings and a side of potatoes and greens, tall offerings of wine and small sides of salads and pockets of bread rolls. The dishes were decadent and large, far too much food for two people. Will narrowed his eyes from across the table.

"What is this?" He asked genuinely. Hannibal adjusted the napkin in his lap to prepare to eat.

"Dinner. Thank you again for joining me, Will."

Will's hands fidgeted in his lap, a weak showing of nerves. The way his name was uttered whenever possible was something he was still unused to, even after so much had occurred; Hannibal spoke his name like it was to be treasured, like it held weight and promise. Maybe the feeling was mutual.

"Hannibal..." Will muttered, trying it out, "this is too much food for two people. Surely you don't expect us to eat all of this."

Hannibal's lips quirked. "Perhaps not. You would not be opposed to taking leftovers home. They're easy to pack."

Not a question; a demand. Will suppressed a shudder.

He reached a hand out and took a small sip of wine to give him something to do. The back of his neck felt icy and numb, like something was just behind him waiting to startle him. It was a predator waiting in tall grasses, unseen yet unavoidable. "Even so. Were you expecting a larger crowd?"

"Not particularly. I knew how little you treat yourself and I wanted to take control for a period of time. Social queues sometimes escape you."

"Treating yourself includes knowing exactly what you need. I am somewhat... lacking in that front."

"Are you?" Hannibal's fingers intertwined before him. "Do you not know what you require, Will? Or does your own truth frighten you?"

Will's jaw tightened; he was not unintelligent or gullible. He knew where this dinner was flying off towards and he would be damned if he was going to let the steering wheel fly from his hands. "I am not complicated, Hannibal."

"No. You're not." Hannibal smiled a genuine thing. "You don't know what you need, but you know what you want."

Will placed a napkin in his lap gently. The room was echoy due to the vast ceiling and the space enveloping them. It caused their voices to bounce off of one another and tumble for dominance, fighting midair. Will watched his fingers play on the soft whiteness of the napkin perched in his lap, stark against the dark color of his pants. He ran his finger of the soft initials of "HL" sewn into the fabric, rubbing the threads. The lace adorning the edges were light and delicate, as though sheer thought would tear them, too soft for a place so tense and harsh. Will closed his eyes for a moment and looked up at Hannibal, centering himself in the eye of the storm: "I know what you are."

It was as though all of the air was sucked out of the room, leaving the both of them suspended between the minutes of time. It was their own pocket of life, only existing between the two of them, only understood between them and only them; Will would have been disgusted if he didn't crave it.

Hannibal felt his heart flutter and stuttered like a dying heart, blood splattered on his face and dotting him like a painting. He was a canvas on which Will painted his masterpiece, and he was putting the finishing touches, touching up the messy corners and blemished edges. He felt a hum in his nerves, excitement at the culmination of so long waiting for Will Graham to fall into his life.

He placed his wine glass down. "Oh?"

"I can see you clearer than I can see myself," Will whispered between clenched teeth, as though the words were being pulled from him. "I can see the aura floating around you, like a black hole that sucks up anything bright. It bleeds from you in every step you take, everything you touch, you brand. It's painful... and..."

"Familiar?"

Will snapped from his thoughts. His jaw had relaxed to become somewhat slack, perhaps unaware of the words falling from his mouth. Hannibal pushed his chair back and stood. Will remained, unafraid.

His eyes followed Hannibal. "I knew from the beginning. The way you looked at others like they weren't on the same level as you. Not like you were better then them, but like they were completely different than you. Like they contained different DNA. I didn't know how to approach it, who to tell or what to say."

Hannibal smirked. "So what did you do?"

Will's chin lifted. "I didn't. I stayed away."

Now Hannibal stood before Will. He looked down at him, a lightness in his chest. Will Graham did things to his chest, stuttered his pulse and made his mind somehow get fuzzy and clear like fog on a morning lake. He was a sweet kind of salvation, reaching out for Hannibal. It occurred to him that Will was unaware of just how much power he held and how wrong that was. He wanted Will to grip the handle of the blade to his throat and decide if he was worthy. To live or die by Will's hand, Hannibal thought, would be beautiful either way. 

"You stayed on the fray and witnessed the unraveling, taking no part yet doing nothing to stop it." Hannibal traced the rim of Will's wine glass with the tip of his deadly finger. "Some would say there is more blood on your hands than mine. Allowing death when you could have intervened."

"'Thou shalt not be a victim. Thou shalt not be an oppressor. But most of all, thou shalt not be a bystander,'" Will quoted hollowly. "I watched people die and I let them."

"Why?" Hannibal whispered into the air, letting it sit.

Will closed his eyes once more, back still straight and fingers clenched the fabric of his trousers. His manner was contradictory, fingers showing nerves yet behind the lids, Hannibal knew he was a calm river, wading. His face betrayed nothing, and Hannibal held his breath.

Finally, Will spoke after long and held out moments. "I've known the whole time," Will whispered, almost to himself as though he was trying to convince a higher power, foolishly thinking the heavens saw him as anything but property of the darker shades of life and death, "I just wanted to see what you'd do. I just wanted to see what would happen."

The words were easy, as easy as saying his name, the time and his location. But in that moment, he only knew the feeling of Hannibal's gaze piercing him and holding him steady, side by side. Everything else beyond the table of steaming food simply fell through, unworthy. Hannibal's hand sought out Will's jaw, clutching him close, running his thumb against Will's bottom lip. It was delicate, and if Will focused, he thought he could taste the blood rubbing off onto his mouth. He resisted the temptation to lick, just to be sure.

"Will," he whispered. "You feel it just as I do, running through ourselves and giving us life. You and I, we are one in the same."

Will finally stood, equal footing with Hannibal and breath hitched. Hannibal brought his other hand to clutch the other side of Will's jaw, lovingly worshiping the man before him. Will remained still, face neutral. They stared into one another's eyes, and they were sated.

"How does it feel?" Hannibal breathed across Will's mouth. "How does it feel to _know?"_

"I don't know any different," Will whispered back, and their lips crashed together. Hannibal's fingers spread across Will's cheeks, holding his face close and not letting any air pass between them that wasn't theirs. Will's hand gripped the bottom of Hannibal's expensive shirt, the other sliding into his hair and holding his head, cradling. It was tender and long awaited and Will and Hannibal became each other's.

The kiss deepened and Will sat back on the table, not caring if the dishes were broken or the wine spilled. Hannibal stood in between Will's legs, and he let the dinner slowly grow cold.

"Did she feel pain?" Will gasped as Hannibal ran his lips down Will's jaw. "Freddie. Did she suffer?"

"I made her regret every lie she ever thought of writing about you. I made her bleed for days and made her beg for your forgiveness. The stress made her tough, however," Hannibal mumbled against skin. "Ms. Lounds felt every touch of pain and then some."

"Good," he replied, hand gripping the table edge beneath himself. "Who's next on the menu?"

Hannibal pulled back and pressed his lips to Will's ear, hands resting on either side of Will's legs. Will moved his hand to intertwine their fingers, smiling softly. It felt right, to be here with Hannibal and about to dine on their prey together. After standing on the sidelines for so long, he was finally front stage, and the scene was lit in reds and golds and passion. It was perfect.

"They all are. They just don't know it yet," Hannibal whispered. "I've waited for this for so long."

"So have I. I'm done waiting," Will said, pulling Hannibal's head back and resting their foreheads together. "I'm ready."

Hannibal smiled and leaned in again, sealing them together.

**Author's Note:**

> come to @adoratiion on tumblr to yell at me about will graham saying fuck and hannibal's hands


End file.
